


Behind the Trickster's Lips

by Xeiana



Series: Descent into Madness [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bilgesnipe, Casket of Winters is somewhat alive, Childhood Memories, Emotional Turmoil, Foreshadow, Gen, Jealousy, Jötunn Loki, Kid Loki, Kid Loki and Kid Thor, Kid Thor, Loki Angst, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki discovers magic, Loki's Kids, Loki-centric, M/M, Manipulative Loki, Parent Frigga, Parent Loki, Pre-Thor (2011), Seiðr, Sibling Rivalry, brotherly bond, Ásgarðr | Asgard (realm)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xeiana/pseuds/Xeiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki had always felt different from his brother since the beginning. While Thor was strong, loud, and built as a warrior, the younger prince was reserved, quick, and drawn to magic. Like the sun and the moon, they were opposite, but he never knew exactly how deep the differences went... Once the truth is found out, how can anything be left to tie him to what he once loved?</p><p>Set during Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Promise to Keep

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not too familiar with this site, but I wanted to broaden my audience for this piece of work. I love to try and delve into the heads of characters and bring forth even more emotion. I hope I have been able to do that with this, as it's the first time working with these characters. Pardon if there are any mistakes, and please tell me if there is anything I can improve on! I may edit this and the following chapters simply because I am never satisfied with my work, but that is just me. Please leave a note on how you like it. There is a planned estimate of seven chapters in all, but if it's loved enough, I do have plans on what I can do next to possibly cover the entire movie. We'll see!

_Even when he was young, the God could spy the slight differences with his sharp eyes. He wasn’t aware at first, no one was, that the first seeds of doubt were beginning to take root in his heart, hidden as small bouts of envy and inferiority. He knew that he was different, but no one could predict what lay beneath the surface of the ‘truths’ around him. Sometimes the Norns had a strange way on deciding one’s fate. Although many paths would branch out from where the start lay, they would always lead to the same result, the same ending. One could never outrun what the fates had in store for them, could not change what was written out for them. A cruel thing, destiny was, and the Norns were simply there to see it through to the end. What begins as a lie will only lead to more deceit falling into place. Like the when the sun rises, the shadow will creep across the ground, until finally it reaches its peak. From there it will consume all._

\- - - - -

The tales of Asgard and its Gods were always dripping in adventure, in the tales of famous and mighty warriors past, of history and wars and victories that never bored the two young children. Like any child born in Asgard, these tales were how they learned of the other eight realms, how many of them would grow up to be soldiers, great warriors who would then go down in their own legacy of stories. Odin looked down at the two children that were slightly behind him, fondness shining just briefly in his one eye. They were enraptured with his tale as they approached the weapon’s vault. Thor had a look of awe on his face, glancing slightly at Loki, who gave the blond an excited grin. The older brother waited with baited breath as their current story came to a close, leaving a moment of silence hanging, teasing them to see which son would jump at the bait of hearing one more story for the evening.

Immediately the bait was taken, bringing a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Come on father! One more story?” The blue-eyed son pleaded up at him, hearing his younger brother’s more quiet voice echoing his request. When he thought back on it, it seemed that it was the start of the long casting shadow, of how he would forever be behind the golden child of Asgard, second best. The older man stood up straighter, acknowledging the guards as the vault doors slid open. One more tale couldn’t hurt before dinner. His words became stronger, focusing on not only one of the most recent victories Asgard has had, but a reminder of a realm who believed them to be Gods and that they were not alone.

“Once mankind accepted a simple truth. That they were not alone in this universe. Some worlds man believed to be home to their gods. Others, they knew to fear. From a realm of cold and darkness came the frost giants, threatening to plunge the mortal world into a new ice age.”

The two children froze behind their father, eyes wide and focused at the retreating figure. Needless, it was one of their favorite tales, although they both had barely been born when this war had ended. The simple mention of the frost giants from Jotunheim made a dark shiver slide down their spines. Images of towering giants with gleaming crimson eyes and blue skin that, with a single touch, could turn the warmest skin into a frostbitten state in merely a second assaulted their head. They were still feared and many would have thought them vanished if not for the fragile truth with the king of the frost giants - Laufey. As if thinking those monsters would be behind them, the two glanced at each other before they quickened their pace to be next to their father once more.

“But humanity would not face this new threat alone. Our armies drove the frost giants back into the heart of their own world. The cost was great; in the end, their king fell, and the source of their power was taken from them. The last Great War ended and we withdrew from the other worlds; returned home to the realm eternal – Asgard.”

Joy leapt into their hearts at such words, already seeing the battle play before them in their minds, their powerful father slaying the giants left and right, ice and wind harsh on unprotected Aesir skin. Azure and crimson blood would have spilt, tainting the rocks and ice. The Asgardians would be winning of course, driving the giants through their realm until they were cornered, even while wielding their source of power. In their eyes, they believed their realm to be invincible to any threats, a child’s easily influenced mindset that would be broken when they left childhood.

They felt the artifact, the source of Jotunheim’s power, before they saw it.

The Casket of Eternal Winters, their powerful artifact that now lay gathering dust in the weapon vault before them. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway as the three approached it. It was said to be able to freeze all those in its way, that in its core lay the darkest, coldest winter storm that awaited its release into the world. Although dormant in its current state, the power it held still expelled a drop in temperature near itself. The chill swept towards the three, almost angry in nature for its removal from its home. Slight goosebumps ran underneath bronzed skin, causing Thor to visibly shiver and move to rub warmth back into his arms. The ravenette glanced briefly over at him with a calm expression, although the curiosity never left its emerald depths. Was the casket’s temperature that unsettlingly cold? He only felt slightly cooler than outside the vault. Though then again, he never had too much trouble with the winter weather, it was rather the summers where he became uncomfortable in.

“Here we remain as a beacon of hope, shining out across the stars. And though we have fallen into man’s myth and legends, it was Asgard - its warriors - that brought peace to the universe.” The All-Father paused. The warrior could still remember the rage-filled cries of the Jotuns as their power was taken from them. The harsh environment was tied with their casket, and thus unbalance would soon come to the realm, but the Asgardians had not known, and the king was firm in his decision of taking it to prevent war from occurring once more. The removal of the relic had broken the Jotuns’ spirit, or so the Asgardians thought.

Behind him, the two children, the two princes, were watching the casket with wide eyes. They may have had a glimpse of such a powerful object before in books, but today had been the day when they had finally been allowed into the vault. Their eyes of course did not miss the other relics that were in alcoves behind and around them, but the star of the vault was right before them. The brief silence allowed them to examine it hungrily with their eyes before they were to leave.

Within a square object with walls of a material harder than glass, black designs etched deeply in it, and dark metal handles pulsed a bluish white light that seemed to be both gas and liquid, swirling around like snow or hail, having only increased its glow and pace as they got closer. It gave Loki a strange feeling, causing him to want to step either forward or backwards, mind not settling on what to do. A lump formed in his throat and he gulped it down, refusing to show any weakness to it, raising his chin as if to tell the relic he wasn’t afraid of the destruction it could bring if in the wrong hands.

His gaze was drawn further into the swirling mist-liquid, the sounds of their breathing fading away until he only heard the sound of the blood rushing through his veins, clouding his mind. It was a slow rush, like the waves crashing into the ocean, but soon transitioned into the roaring of a blizzard, the core becoming more frantic in its rotations. His fingertips twitched forwards, wanting to reach out and trace the carved designs; it intrigued the young prince, as fascinating as it was unnerving. The coolness of the air was almost refreshing, feeling as if it would start snowing right that second…

His father’s sudden words pierced the cloudy veil that had captured his mind.

“But the day will come when one of you will have to defend that peace.” Odin’s words never faltered as he continued to stare down at the spoils of the past war, the casket knowing that its captor was back. The blue object grew in brightness, yet could do nothing except sit there, cut off from its realm. A ghost of a smile flickered across the All-Father’s lips before it disappeared. Turning, his eye fell upon the two sons that gazed back with fascination, however, it was Loki who finally spoke up. The question that was brought forth was not one he had been expecting from two sons that could each sit on the throne. Instead of the question of who would be worthy of the title of king, it was about…

“Do the frost giants still live?” Although he sought to hide the slight glimmer of nervousness in his eyes, as Loki had nightmares when he was younger about them, it still shined through the nervous tremble of his fingertips. Not that anyone had noticed it, his brother being too surprised by the question to recognize it. Thor had turned his blue eyes to his brother, raising an eyebrow as if the question was ridiculous to even answer. He beat their father to the punch, slapping his hand to his now puffed out chest, confidence swirling in those eyes. Loki simply stared over at him, hearing that slight laugh that escaped his brother’s lips.

“When I’m king, I’ll hunt the monsters down and slay them all.” Thor made a show of ‘slaying’ invisible frost giants like they were nothing, voice strong and proud. He panted slightly, looking back at his brother to seek his support. A witty comment darted to the tip of the younger brother’s tongue, an eyebrow arching before Loki tamed his retort into silence. He had been known to have a quick tongue, and sharp mind. Words, even when he was this young, were his to play with, always able to charm the servants or chamber maidens with. Although he knew when to use them, he had yet to be able to master it on those much older and wiser.

_‘Only if you grow taller. And your wooden sword would only give them splinters, ‘mighty Thor’.’_

It was a good thing he kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t wanted to dash the pride or the confidence of his older brother, especially not in front of their father. He was not quite fond of getting a scold or lecture from him today. Unaware of the thoughts going through Loki’s head, the blond simply took that as a ‘yes, I will help you in this endeavor when it comes’.

“Just as you did father.” Thor turned to see if their father agreed with his boasts, almost sure that his words held truth. However, within that powerful gaze of the man was disproval, something that deflated the older prince. The blond looked down slightly, as if slightly ashamed that he had said something that failed to impress his father, but the next words picked his spirits up again.

“A wise king never seeks out war. But…” Odin paused, his eyes flickering back and forth between the calm expression on Loki’s face, and the determined eyes and contagious smile of Thor, drawing out a small bout of suspense. He began to walk forward, bypassing his two sons as he left them with his words.

“He must always be ready for it.” Another smile begged to twist his lips, knowing what was running through his sons’ minds. They both knew the throne was meant for only one, but perhaps… The two brothers looked after him before their gazes landed on each other, their eyes searching each other. The connection between the two could be seen, the excitement, the want not only to best each other, but to grow together. Thor was the first to smile in a playful challenge, Loki soon mirroring it mischievously. Rivals, brothers, friends. Seconds last between the look they gave each other before they darted towards their father, clasping one hand with Odin’s. Each other both thinking they had won the small race, their grins only deepening.

“I’m ready father!”

“So am I!”

Their words traveled through the vault, both strong and confident, wanting to show their worth to the All-Father.

“Only one of you can ascend to the throne.” There was hesitance again in both children’s eyes, Thor wanting to say something against his father’s words, while Loki looked down slightly, as if his mind wanted to join his brother in protesting. They were silenced by the next words, which lifted their spirits and filled their faces with pride and joy.

“But both of you were born to be kings.”

Even with a hopeful smile on his lips at the proud words, the younger boy could not help but glance back at the casket as they ascended the stairs. A faint shudder echoed in his spine, but not from the cold, it was something he couldn’t put a finger on, as if it was made from smoke. That same sensation when he was near it, before their father had broken his concentration… His eyes locked onto it, seeing the faint blue glow dim until it was nothing. Why was it that the cold temperature from that thing seemed to only affect his father, brother, and anyone else who came near it? Sure he knew he liked the cold but… Almost forgetting that one of his hands was gripping his father’s, or that Thor seemed to be chatting away at their father about wanting to go on a hunt with him, he looked down at his free hand.

No one noticed how his eye color began to shift, muddying its beautiful tones with something darker, only to disappear with one blink. The moment they left the vault was when the cold disappeared, replaced with the warmth that filled the castle, sunlight filtering through enormous windows. Hearing the vault door close behind them, Odin breathed in the air, the scent of spices, wine, and meat filling the halls.

“Now, your mother and dinner are waiting. Keeping her waiting any longer would not be wise.” One of the old king’s eyes lifted, all three of them knowing that although Frigga was as graceful as the wind and a beautiful queen, there was reason why no one crossed such a powerful woman. The children giggled and ran ahead, the race from before being reinstated as they challenged each other on who could make it to the grand dining hall first.

\- - - - -

Evening was falling, the sunlight starting to wane as night ushered the brilliant star away. Grunts and laughs flowed through a small outside garden where the two princes could spar by themselves. The blond god held his sword high, blocking the identical blade that was in his brother’s hand before he caught the hilt with his own and used his weigh to knock the ravenette to the ground, the wooden blade now an inch away from his neck. Air rushed out of his lungs, body complaining heavily at the weight that pressed against his chest in the form of his older brother.

The young prince was not happy about his defeat, especially since he never had been able to outmatch the other’s sword fighting. Grumbling and mumbling that he yielded, Loki pushed the other god off him. If he had been allowed a staff or dagger, then he would have had an easier time, preferring how easily moves flowed with those particular weapons. Grinning at his fifth win that evening, the blue-eyed god turned his eyes to the servant who appeared near their fighting ring.

“The Queen wishes that you return indoors for the night, my princes.” The servant glanced up briefly to meet both gazes, although they quickly averted once meeting with Loki’s. Thor dismissed her with a wave.

“Thor?” The younger prince watched the other male walk off to where there was a weapon rack, putting his beloved fighting sword where it belonged. The other acknowledged that he heard him, tilting his head, although he didn’t interrupt the question that would flow after.

“Do you really think father is right about the frost giants being no threat?” Thor looked at his brother when he was putting away his wooden sword, trying to understand why Loki kept bringing up the frost giants. First in the vault, and now again? Sapphire eyes stared into emeralds, seeing the other look slightly unsettled, such a strange thing to see from the normally sharp tongued boy. The nervous twitch of his fingers was recognized, Loki’s eyes glancing away in an effort to prevent the other from seeing how deep his nervousness truly lay. A large smile overtook his lips as he left the rack to stop in front of his brother, putting his hand to the nape of his neck and touching their foreheads together. Warm breath tickled Loki’s face, unable to look away from his strong gaze, nor pull away. It was a comforting gesture that the older brother had displayed since they were very young, an act of brotherly affection and love.

It was that adoring look and bright smiling eyes that always made a warm yet strange feeling rise up in his heart. His chest tightened. That expression never failed to make him feel like his brother truly cared for him, no matter what would happen. His eyes briefly slid shut, sighing softly.

“When I’m king, I will protect Asgard from the frost giants, and anything else the other realms can throw at us! I’ll protect both of us.” Eyes snapping open, Loki parted his lips to speak, to deny that he didn’t need protecting, and that he wasn’t a maiden or damsel in distress that needing rescuing, but a prince who was perfectly able to take care of his own… However he held his tongue and simply settled to glare at him with as much ferocity as he could muster. Even if he lacked the more psychical prowess than his brother possessed, it had always been downright annoying whenever he was begged to play the part of a lady in their play fights with other children – it was one of the only things they let him participate in at that point. And besides, it wasn’t as if he would be crawling back into his brother’s bed because of the thunder – it seemed Thor couldn’t control his power yet, and he hated to admit that he feared the loud crackling sounds – or because of the frost giants that seemed to invade his dreams every other night.

_‘If he dared to bring that one up in public again…’_

“Brother, don’t pull such looks of distaste! I jest. We’ll protect each other. With you by my side, we’ll be the great defenders of Asgard. All will tremble at the mere mention of our names!” Thor leaned back and clapped a hand on the back of Loki’s shoulders, nearly making him trip and drop the sword he was carrying, becoming forgotten as his attention narrowed in on his brother. The young god scowled slightly up at his taller brother, when would he ever remember to pull back his strength? His oaf of a brother barely even noticed his struggle underneath the pat. However, the way he always promised to protect him no matter what was done or said, he never it even as they grew, and swore by their father that he wouldn’t break it in the future… It was touching.

“You think I wouldn’t have my brother share the glory with me? Where would I be without you at my side?” Thor laughed, his booming tone shattering the near-silence as he threw his arm around his shoulders, half-hugging him. The words eased Loki’s mind but still there was that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, watching as their shadows grew the further the sun set beyond the mountains.

“Yes, I suppose someone has to keep you alive after you rush headfirst into battle.” The retort easily fell from his lips, a look of challenge being passed between them. Once more, the god of thunder laughed, shaking his little brother by the shoulders as he began to weave a story of their would-be journeys together - taking down a dragon of another realm, saving villages from massive bilgesnipes. It was amusing to say the least, but it warmed his soul to know that his brother desired to have him at his side even through battle. A glance up at a balcony nearby reminded him of where they had to be.

“Thor… I hate to break your creation of our ‘future’ conquests, but it would not bode well to keep mother up worrying about us.” Sheepishly, Thor paused, about to question that she wouldn’t know before he followed the trail of his gaze up to the balcony, where a tall figure stood looking down at them. Finding an opportunity, the mischievous god pushed his brother aside and ran for the doors to the hallway, throwing green eyes to his trailing brother.

Another race, another day past. But a child’s happiness could only last so long, their laughter slowly fading away into the growing night.


	2. The Magic Dwells Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again this is unbeta'ed, so if you find any mistakes, I apologize! I was eager to explore how Loki may have gained his magic, so enjoy the little feels trip. I do enjoy little Loki, he's just too cute! Also, I still feel like I want to add more, but that's how I am all the time. I've been working on many of the other chapters, but I'll still wait on releasing them. Stick around and enjoy! Maybe even leave a comment?

_Bitterness can poison one’s heart, blacken the roots of a sapling just starting to spread its leaves. God of Mischief, apparently that was his new title now with the small tricks and pranks. Eyes of the forest grew clouded and lost. Stirs of emotions would soon take effect in the long years still ahead of him. Different, unable to find the proper foothold to get to the next ledge, turmoil will only boil over until everything washes clean._ _The shadow begins to grow, hiding him from the sun’s warmth, from other’s eyes of praise. It was the beginning of the downfall. But perhaps in the dark, there would be a light that will allow him escape?_

_The discovery of magic could become the key to help push him forward back into the shining light._

\- - - - -

It had been weeks since his training practices had become just him alone with whatever teacher who would come along and help. Some days he vigorously practiced, striking at the training dummy that stared blankly at him, and others he sat down and stared up at the sky, listening to the birds as they whistled and trilled. It was maddening to go through days where he was alone. Too used to having his brother at his side no matter what, it was alien to be the only Aesir in a single room, cut off from friendly chatter. Now and then, there were days that he would go to the balcony that lay over the new training grounds, where the other children, including his brother, went to. There were groups of them, families from all over preparing their children for their warrior upbringing.

There he would wait, hidden from view and looking down upon the children who would spar with their staffs, spears, and swords. Their happy laughs and serious determination always grated his teeth, hating how happy they looked, hating how happy his brother looked as he formed friendships with other kids their age, leaving him alone. No one wanted a child who couldn’t keep up with other children’s techniques, nor have the strength to match any of the others in a proper fight. Determination had made him push to succeed until he realized the gap between him and the others near him began to increase, putting him farther and farther behind. Even only training with daggers and staffs, more of the less-used weapons, where he excelled, he had been avoided with possible sparring partners.

Loki knew what the other children thought of him. Different, strange, weak. Already isolated from them with his paler complexion, dark hair differentiating him from his family, now he was cursed with the non-ability to hold his own too well in a fight. In a land that was renowned for their beauty and strength, he was like a weed in the fields of roses. While he preferred reading books in his spare time, Thor had always been adamant about practicing his sparring. After the third week of trying to keep up, he had simply stopped showing up. Fingers dug into the palms of his hands as he remembered the feeling of being worthless, of the shadow he was standing in. Thor hadn’t understood how he felt, how he felt so inferior to him. That stupid big oaf with his thick head, he couldn’t even tell how his own younger brother was feeling and it sickened him. They used to be able to read each other so well, and now he wasn’t important enough to be kept at his side.

_“Where would I be without you at my side?”_

That one sentence from a year ago ran through his mind, repeating against and again. It was easy to remember those bright shining eyes, that loving look Thor gave him. It had given him hope once, that he was needed, reaffirmed that they could become great together, the two Princes of Asgard who could defeat all who came in their way, including the fearsome frost giants. Had it been just a meaningless promise, one that he never truly meant to keep? Did those fun-filled years of laughing and tricks mean nothing to him? If so, now where did that leave him?

_In the shadows of the great sun. The moon that would be ignored in favor of the day. In the night where they slept and shunned, where only the silent stars shone to keep him company._

His finger twitched as his emotions ran high. Those faces people kept sneaking towards him when he wasn’t looking, or so they thought, the whispers that he only caught the end of. It had been enough to drive him into spending most of his time in the library. Would nothing be his to shine in? To be able to bypass his brother’ shining achievements and shadow? What could he do that would make him noticed and appreciated? It was petty jealousy, but the young prince still thought it unfair. His eyes flashed and he raised the practice staff high, striking the dummy with as much force as he could muster, going in for a second strike, and then another as he twirled around, his emotions pouring into his blows.

No one would be coming to look over him, to point out to him slight mistakes he would make, to guide him into the correct positioning. Even his father had turned a blind eye to him the more he fell behind. Thor was everyone’s favorite…  Looking in a mirror had only shown how different he was again and again, to the point where he hated to look in them. It was as if he was the black sheep of the family.

In so little time, the distance had grown between him and the ones he loved. There was a cold aching in his chest, the holes where their warmth once burned now gaping wide open. He felt lost in the world where he didn’t seem to a part of, not able to uphold the duties required of him to be prince like he boasted he could. Loneliness, anger, jealousy, envy, too many emotions…

The smoldering coals inside his mind started cracking, steam boiling from within him until they burst into flames. It was as if something hidden in his mind burst through the wall that kept it locked up, a coolness settling over him, washing over his spine. The air compressed around him before something shot out from around his body, the ground shaking. The emptiness filled the broken dam inside of him, the sensation of him falling to his hands and knees briefly surfacing in his weary mind. What had that been? Long fingers dug into the ground, the damp soil grounding him, a stabilizer. Whatever it had been, it suddenly came back, the fleeting empty feeling gone. The small ball of cool fire lingered underneath the surface of his mind, waiting…

Emerald eyes shot open, but he was not prepared for what he saw. Around him the training ring had been obliterated, fence posts strewn around the small garden and gouges dug into earth. Among the wreckage lay several clumps of long grass, being consumed with a strange green fire. Loki turned his head, his staff and the dummy nowhere in sight, most likely obliterated at such close contact as nothing within several feet remained untouched. There could only be one cause of this, which could explain the tiny pinpricks of soft green light that hung around him and the affected area.

_Seidr_ …. Magic.

Sweat dripped down his body, only now realizing how exhausted he was, the encounter draining him of almost all energy. His vision blurred slightly, too far gone to notice the servant, who had come to bring him to lunch, gap at the scene before rushing to get the queen. A soft chuckle, so rare now a days, welled up from his throat, raising a scraped hand to touch one of the lights, feeling his finger simply pass through it. It left a cool sensation on his skin, like mist. The magic fire disappeared, but the tiny balls of lights began to descend from where they were overhead, accenting the colors of his eyes and the tunic he wore.

It was so silent, so peaceful. The birds had flown away, the wind had died down, and he couldn’t even hear the training grounds in the distance. It was perfect… The stars of the night sky would to pale in comparison to the beautiful display. Magic, his magic.

“Loki!”

Furrowing his eyebrows slightly, he looked in the direction of where his name had been called, his hazy vision still unsteady and unable to discern who it was. A woman in a long blue dress was quickly walking over to where he was. He collapsed into her arms as soon as she knelt down to pull him close. The concerned look went unnoticed, the child still in awe at his discovery.

“Mother… I have magic, see?” The tired expression transformed into something joyful, giddiness welling up from within his soul. He had something that was all his own, that Thor could not hope to possesses. Frigga stared down at her son silently, unable to look away from the happiness that had captured her son. It was dazzling, seeing a sparkle in those brilliant eyes that she had thought lost once her children grew apart. All of those negative emotions that she couldn’t do anything to brush away, they faded into the back of his mind. She turned to his offered hand, where a piece of his magic was floating, blinking slowly like it was about to fade out. She cup one hand around his hand, the light brightening both of their faces.

“Father will be proud of me now, just wait!” Just those words nearly broke her heart. Did her husband not see how this child was vying for his attention, craving the praises that seemed to now only fall onto their eldest? The queen stroked his hair gently, running fingers through his short strands. The insecurities that had been laid out before him were easily seen without words necessary. The exhaustion and the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Perhaps this can be reversed…

“Such a brilliant boy, my son… Not many are born with the power of such strong seidr.” The child practically beamed up at her, clarity returning to Loki’s eyes. Frigga did not mention how dangerous it was if he was left alone without learning to control it correctly… That was something she could offer her youngest son. She wasn’t about to let anyone else have the joy of teaching her youngest son.

“Come, my son, we must talk, before anyone else comes looking.” Holding onto his mother as the strain revealed itself once more as he attempted to stand, the mischievous child managed to regain his balance. Hands slick with sweat and shaking, he allowed his mother to begin guiding him back to his room, sparing a glance back to the sunny garden where the remnants of his magic faded away into nothing.

\- - - - -

His frustration had never been this high before. After his magic had announced itself in an explosion of emotions that fateful day in the training ring, it had withdrawn deep inside of him. He could feel the coolness of it inside him, but it shied from his fingers, from his mind. Today had been the day when his mother would help him produce his first spell, only a few days after such an event. Glance after glance was sent towards the closed door. Chewing on his bottom lip, the prince sat quietly on his bed, fiddling with the hem of his sleeves. She said she would be here fifteen minutes ago, so what was keeping her?

She didn’t forget, did she?

No, mother wouldn’t do that to him. She was different from father.

Minutes flew by, and he passed them by flicking through a few books of magic that he had been given, their old bindings dusty and falling apart. At first he had feared to touch them, not wanting a scolding if they fell apart as soon as he turned the page, but after a while, he gained confidence, pages flying before his quick fingers. From a history of magic to spells of all difficulties, it had been enough to pass the time before their lesson today, and now he could read more in depth with the spells he had passed. Such as that fire spell…

Frowning, Loki glanced at his two hands. If his way with words could talk him out of trouble, like that one time he single handedly caused the desserts to disappear from the kitchen before the midsummer’s feast, then surely he could get the hang of his magic. The child closed his eyes, remembering how his magic had flown through his veins. It had been aggressive, as if reacting to his emotions… Was that the key? Or could he control it with a simple thought and a few whispered words?

Concentrating, he thought about what little he read on the spell. Focusing his thoughts, he felt the room around him disappear. The palms of his cool hands were warming, as if some flame had drawn closer to his skin. As curious as he was, he kept his eyes firmly shut, prodding around inside of him for that ball of magic that drifted just out of reach. There, the coolness was at the edge of his mind, glowing brighter as he whispered a spell to draw forth a ball of fire. His own voice sounded strangely foreign, repeating the old words as if they came from an elder’s lips. It was the work of the magic, meant for someone more experienced than him. It didn’t matter, if he could prove how quickly he could master this to his mother… Maybe his father would turn his gaze back upon him!

The warmth grew, first dim, until something began to crackle in its place. The young god barely heard it, mental fingers having managed to reach out far enough to grab hold of the ball, drawing power. Strands unraveled from it, snaking around his fingers and arm like a living serpent. There was a jolt when something burned his skin. Snatching his hands away, he yelped and opened his eyes, the roar of the magic in his ears. The fire ball shown proudly, growing in size until it was the size of both of his fists. A flicker of fear fluttered through his eyes. He should have felt pride for completing the spell on his first try, the residue from the spell tasting like copper in his mouth, a bad aftertaste. But something was wrong. The ball didn’t stop, sparks flashing around it. Biting his lower lip, he began stepping back and away, just in time for the unstable magic to explode. He stumble back, coughing to get smoke out of his mouth.

Wiping his mouth, he was too preoccupied when the door opened a few seconds later. His eyes darted over at the squeak of the door, his heart rising at the expectation that it was his mother, but it soon died, green meeting blue. It was his brother… Just his brother. It was difficult to not pout, to not growl at him to get away and leave him alone.

“Loki? Why is there soot on your face? Get too close to the fire because of how cold it is getting?” His older brother came closer; the bewildered look on his face would have been amusing if not for his conflicting emotions at having failed at the spell and at the continued absence of his mother. Loki quickly checked to see if there were any remnants other than the soot on his face, which he quickly rubbed off onto his sleeve. The only evidence seemed to have been the soot, no streaks of black against the floor that told of a fireball exploding. Sniffing, he was annoyed to find that his eyebrows had been singed. Realizing his brother still wanted an answer, he looked over at him, mind racing. He couldn’t just give his secret away yet, so he lied.

“Yes, it was getting pretty chilly and I nearly fell asleep in front of it.” Such a strange feeling it was to lie to his brother like that, but it felt so natural, and did its job to keep him off track. Thor glanced from the raging fire in the fireplace then back to him and shrugged.

“Well, mother sent me to get you, she and father were talking.” His face dropped at his brother’s words. So that was why she didn’t come… Did father find out about his magic and disprove? Was he convincing her not to let him pursue it? Too many questions spun through his head and he leaned against his bed, curling his fingers into the warm heavy fur draped across. Shaking his head, the ravenette felt the gaze of the ever-blue eyes of his brother. Thor stared down at him, lips pulled into a slight frown.

Loki couldn’t meet his gaze, looking down at the floor. The feel to his shoulders being gripped lightly didn’t faze him, still silent.

“Come brother, you said so before so many times, you don’t want to keep her waiting.”

\- - - - -

Tension was heavy in the air. There was no need to scan the small crowd that had formed around the grounds to see that everyone was shocked at the sudden challenge Loki made. It had taken one year for him to learn the tricks and trades of magic. He was far away from mastering it, but there was enough he had learned to hold himself against his brother for a mere fight. His mind raced as he sized up his brother. To use his magic to battle, the young god figured that he would have been able to impress everyone, to show Thor that he too could excel now in combat with his new weapon. Loki’s eyes narrowed.

Yes, then his brother’s attention would slide back to him, away from the other young warriors that always looked at him in awe and pushed each other aside to get to know the golden child better. A strange emotion welled up inside of him, similar to what had led to the discovery of his magic before. A clawing ache to have the void beside him filled, to run and laugh and play tricks on the servants and guards as children. To hide and seek again without his brother thinking of any other ‘friends’ he may have. He clenched his hands tightly, feeling his nails dig into flesh and the wooden dagger he carried. Jealousy and longing began to mix together, joining in the flood of emotions that never made it to his eyes.

He wanted him back, so that only he could see that bright smile. Loki wanted to feel like he was important again. The time when it was simply revolved around them and their would-be adventures together. Movement caught his eyes and he glanced to his left, where one of the trainers stepped forward to announce to the small crowd what was going to happen. He shrugged it off. It wasn’t as if it was an important event that all of Asgard would want to see. No one ever paid attention to them when they sparred in their earlier years, no… Everyone was only astonished when he, the younger prince, had grabbed a dagger from the racks and challenged his brother to a spar on the spot. It was so unlike him that no one protested.

Thor stared back at him, a hint of confusion in his eyes, just a fleeting glimpse of how odd he found it before the boy let a bright smile split his lips. Fool… Loki huffed, sinking into an attack stance. The older prince had no idea how different this was going to be from their last spar, so long ago. The radiance of confidence that surrounded his brother was a bit unnerving, but he had seen through that. His brother seemed to think by rushing headlong into things, that he would be able to take them down so easily. Well then, that can be used to his own advantage, especially with his magic having been a carefully guarded secret until now.

Thor charged towards him, his sword swiping at Loki as weapon met weapon, wood creaking against each other. They traded blows, the smaller more agile god able to move past the brute strength. This was merely a test before the fighting got serious. Both gods noticed their fighting style from a year ago had changed, evolving into their own paths. One was more about using pure strength to win, the other more strategic and cautious. Loki jumped back, dodging a blow that was meant to knock him off balance. A laugh slipped through his lips, seeing the slight frown on Thor’s face at the miss. He charged and again the ravenette danced out of reach, delighting in causing his brother frustration.

“Are you just going to keep running, brother?” Running? He was tempted to laugh again, but held up his free hand, lips moving to whisper a spell. His fingers began to glow, a soft aura of green magic forming around them, unseen to most eyes, even his own. He leaped away, feeling the sword hit the ground. He released the ball of energy, directing it towards his brother’s unprotected side as momentum carried him through the thrust. His eyes glimmered in smugness as it hit, the shock in those eyes making it even more satisfactory. The magic was not strong enough to injure him, no, for now it was just tricks and slips of the mind.

The gasps of the onlookers were even more interesting. Magic was not too common in Asgard, especially this young. To see that Loki had been blessed with gift of seidr, especially considering he was male, it was even more surprising. The young prince stepped back, falling into his stance again.

“Raven got your tongue, brother?” A teasing remark from the younger couldn’t be answered as dagger clashed against the oncoming sword. Their eyes stared at each other, one smug, another with determination. In a struggle of strength, it was clear on who would win. Thor obviously had the advantage, planting his feet into the ground and pushing against the slighter framed boy, sending him back inch by inch until a gleam from those eyes stopped him. Words that he didn’t understand passed through those lips, and out of nowhere, a green-tinged cloud of smoke came froth, surrounding the two brothers. There were shouts from the audience, everyone desperately trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. Thor felt around, eyesight useless in the smoky surroundings. A ball of magic slammed into his back and Loki laughed out from where he was hidden, moving to keep himself from being seen. He quite enjoyed this trick, to hide in plain sight and be able to move freely. Two more balls he created, striking the ground in front of him and then his side, planning to merely knock him off balance just for the fun of it.

It had been all fun and games until a wooden sword whacked him in the shoulder, bringing forth a startled yelp as he backed up quickly. How did he-? The young god looked around him, the smoke starting to clear around him. It should have lasted longer than only a few seconds! Did he miscalculate his spell? Thor saw the uncertainty and confusion of his brother and took that chance to charge at him, watching Loki’s eyes widen at the sight of him, throwing up the dagger to ward off the sword. The older prince tensed as he put all of his weight into the blow, ready to feel the resistance of wood against wood as they met–

\- and passed straight through like the dagger wasn’t even there. The shocked expression mirrored the one on Loki as he disappeared. Thor tried to catch his balance but stumbled to the ground with his momentum, having heard a snap of the fingers behind him. His recovery was quick, turning around to spy his brother at the far end of the training ring, smiling craftily. This expression he knew, from when he succeeded at a particularly hard prank. But how? He was getting tired of his brother taunting him with his magic now, no matter how impressive it was.

It was Loki’s turn to look confident. By drawing out the fight, it lead to his brother being more annoyed and less likely to think straight. His lips twitched upwards. It didn’t matter that he began to hear people call out to their favorite. Of course it’d be Thor, everyone loved him. A lunge brought Thor closer, the tip of his sword missing Loki’s dagger as he slid to one side. Magic buzzing around one hand, he let it fly, using the way Thor dodged to roll to his left and swipe at his feet. Weapons clashed against each other as the fight lengthened, the younger one making sure he only used his magic when he needed as to conserve his usage. Something beside him, similar to the way heat played with your mind in a mirage, almost distracted the blond from his fight, but he quickly responded to the thrust of the other’s weapon.

It happened too quickly for Loki to respond, showing him again why his brother had been better at swordsmanship. His dagger was locked with his sword and he felt his knee buckling underneath him, collapsing to the ground in one quick movement. He let out a gasp, annoyance and shock looking up into a triumphant expression. Thor stared down at his brother, hands pinning him to the ground.

“It seems I win, brother.” It did seem that way, didn’t it? Loki’s expression melted into a coy one, a sly look overtaking his face. It was enough of a change that Thor immediately became on edge. Wait, that slight glimmer before he disarmed his brother… That hadn’t been a trick of the sun above, had it?

“You may want to reconsider who won.” A wooden tip of a dagger kissed the side of his neck and Thor froze, blinking at the figure of his brother below him. Eyes watched as the form slowly began to disappear, the smirk on those lips taunting him as the remnants of fingers snapping echoed through the suddenly silent ring. He glanced over his shoulder directly into the awaiting gaze of Loki. His eyes were bright and full of satisfaction, sweat dripping slightly down his forehead. The training grounds were quiet, every warrior there and child staring in amazement and confusion at the sight. How had the older prince get beaten by the younger one?  Surely this had to be a mistake. However, the eldest prince could only meet the gaze of his brother with admiration now. It had been too long since he had swallowed the taste of defeat.

“Where did you learn all of this, brother?” Thor asked, dropping his sword in the dirt to show he surrendered. Although he detested losing, the fact that his brother had matched him well in a fight had surprised him. The control of the magic that his brother had wielded, the confidence he had radiated while in the ring… To see how pride showed in the younger prince’s face;  he had never seen him look as happy as he did in years. Another question burned inside his mind – when did he find out about his magic? – but he kept his mouth shut.

“Mother.” Loki’s lips curled into more of a smile, his heart pounding. Tossing his own dagger to the ground, he placed his hand on his hips, settling into a more relaxed stance. Realization dawned on the blond. That was why his mother had barely been seen, always talking with Loki for hours on end. He hadn’t been the only one who noticed that in the palace. Thor spoke softly, the conversation only able to be heard by them.

“So then that time back in your room, with the soot?” Loki rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, forgetting the fact that the onlookers still were watching the conversing princes. The time of the failed fireball had almost been forgotten at that time, and it made him remember how far he had gone on learning.

“A failed spell.” Thor was silent for a minute before he sprang up, leaving their weapons on the ground.

“Brother, you have to show me more! Come!” He furrowed his eyebrows as his brother grabbed his hand and left the bystanders without a word to them. He wasn’t mad that he was defeated then? Loki’s eyes quickly assessed his face, looking for any hint that the boy was angry or annoyed now, not that it would be difficult; Thor was almost always like an open book to him, until the distance between them grew. All he found now was eagerness and delight. It was so strange to see after so long. This was the face of a brother who cared, of the brother who stood by the younger prince even when something went wrong. The brother who took the punishment for a failed prank and still came back to get into more trouble latter.

Maybe, just maybe, he had not lost that spot next to him.

His heart lifted slightly, fluttering at the thought. There was a possibility that he could regain his brother’s attention, and even his father’s. That alone was enough to allow a full-fledged smile to spread across his lips, tightening his grip in his brother’s hand.


	3. Tales in the Marketplace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this was going to be released before Christmas, but I failed didn't I? Well, I ended up splitting the original one up into two parts due to how long it was being and how the second part wasn't even being written. So I now can say that this will be 14 chapters long. Now all I'll have to do is trudge through the next one again while procrastinating haha. Still need a proof-reader, cuz maybe you can tell how bad the ending was? I think it's horrible and agh.. If you want to offer your services, send me a message, it means you'll get loads of previews, and I do like spoiling people soo... Yeah! Please tell me how you like it! I also updated the series that this is in with the next parts of the fics after this, so all in all there will be possible five stories. One of them I am working on (Mischief's Past) currently and another which isn't apart of it (The Other Loki) is also being written. So I hope you check those out once I publish them. Let's hope I stay on track eh?

_A chance to escape and look on as a simple young man was quite the rare chance indeed, especially for one born of royalty. Times to act upon it were scare, but the marketplace could provide such an escape. The tales of his brother’s exploits were nothing new to the mischievous god, nor were the advances many made upon him. Still overlooked in the shadows, but now with the ability to be somewhat recognized as a great magic user held hope for him. The future looked brighter than ever, but as time goes on, one must remember that life is a cruel mistress. There will always be hardships that can topple even self-proclaimed gods. The whispers of many spread like the locus that decimate crops, like a wildfire that consumes all in its way. It was only a matter of time for the pain they would bring to be felt full-force._

\- - - - -

Running errands was not something that the prince was fond of, not when there were servants that could do the job for him, but he did want to get out of the palace for a while. He had nearly been shooed out of the library by his mother for hiding himself behind the mountain of books, and tempted by his brother to spar to pass the rather dull day away. He had only gotten out of it by saying he wanted to travel to the market and slipped away without another word, missing Thor’s resigned look. Although it was rather enjoyable to have his brother go out of his way to ask for his company, such a common occurrence nowadays, it was on shaky grounds when it fell into his place among Thor’s friends. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three…

Pale lips turned into a frown as he stepped away from the palace doors, a small basket in his hands. He never quite liked his brother’s friends too well since he first met them. Worthy opponents in combat, yes, but the rather dull conversations, or rather, conversations that never interested him, and their lack of amusement at his tricks left much to be desired. Being tolerated when around them was more or less a plus. It made staying at his brother’s side much easier. Of course Sif and him had a good relationship until he played a prank on her that left her mourning the loss of her blonde locks. But that was a rather touchy subject he would rather not think about.

Closing his eyes, he allowed the shadows to conceal him, transporting him closer to the markets. The burning gaze of Heimdall could almost be felt on his back as he arrived in a less crowded section. It was barely threatening, as he was not up to mischief now, and soon that feeling disappeared as those ever-watchful eyes turned back to the stars. His magic burned inside him, dripping down his neck in a familiar shiver. Short hair lengthened, pulling itself into a low ponytail as the common shade of dark blonde erased his tell-tale ebony color. Skin darkened into the natural tanned shade that was often seen, and while his eyes opened, they became a soft hazel with highlights of blue.

It was a new form, one called up simply for the market place, but he would soon be tired of such a boring look. He always did. The clothes never mattered to him to pay such detail to, blending in well enough into the commoners without thinking about it. Besides, he mainly came to get some sweets and a few more books for his private collection. It wasn’t well known that he had a major sweet tooth, only his mother had been let in on that little secret. If Thor found out… He grimaced slightly. He would be teased nonstop; blackmail on the trickster himself was incredibly scarce – he made sure of it. Luckily him being renowned as a bookworm was well known and only Thor’s friends had it in them to try and annoy him with it. It was quite easy to shrug that off, as it never bothered him. Trust the warriors to not relish the knowledge and fascination that the books held…

Which brought him to why he was going out in the first place. The books were mainly used as a diversion to why he kept going into the market every other week, though it never hurt to have his stockpile grow over the months he had been doing this. Needless to say, he was a quick reader and finished books faster than anyone else he knew, including the librarians. A grin flickered across his lips for a split second before it disappeared. Being able to translate an old Asgardian book faster than them had been one of his top achievements in the many years.

The marketplace was noisy once he entered the main road – vendors shouting out deals and mentions of their newest wares available. The offshoots were rather quiet, but normally he never ventured into them unless something there interested him. His first stop, near where he had teleported himself to, was the book stall he frequented often. Run by an older short man, he was a well-known traveler to the many realms and had the knack of finding even some of the rarest of books, for a price of course. It was something he always took into account when he was tracking down a particular volume that not even the librarians could track down. Slipping through the crowd of people he stepped between the shelves that had been set up, running a gloved finger along their spines. Crossing off the ones he had already come across in his mind, he was more interested in something new.

The color of bright golden locks caught his eyes, dragging his gaze away from the bookshelf before him. The color was ever so common in Asgard, due to the ingestion of Idunn’s golden apples. But… This particular shade could only belong to that wretch of a woman. A snarl nearly made its way onto his lips. The young Asgardian woman was being accompanied by a servant, deep in discussion and unaware of someone watching her as closely as possible. Even if he had seen only a glimpse of those bright honey eyes, or the shade of intricate-styled amber dresses she always was fond of wearing, he could never find himself looking away. There was a reason why the god of mischief could find himself so infuriated at the mere sight of her.

Perhaps it had been those many years ago when she began making advances towards his brother when they began their climb into their older teenage years that had started it. Or maybe the first time they met when she giggled at Thor’s smile. She had ignored the darker haired prince with a simple dismissal of the eyes, and instead batted her eyelashes as she congratulated the older prince on a recent hunt. In most cases Loki would have ignored such a woman, and there were many of them, but her persistence in always being around Thor tugged at him, drawing out emotions that he was used to. Jealousy was one of them, how the attention was always cast on his brother and leaving him in the shadows once more. What had begun of what he thought to be a rekindling brotherly bond had nearly been casted aside again with the glory that always found his brother. Still he clung to that thread tightly, refusing to be let go again and working harder than ever to place a foot into the shining light.

But beyond that jealousy was a slippery serpent of an emotion, something he could not put a finger on. Nights went by as he locked himself in his room, declining even his mother’s lessons in combat training so he could devote his time into discovering why there was a tug on his heart every time he found his brother with that woman, or any other, smiling fondly. It had struck him hard when he figured it out.

He was the one who wanted that smile to be directed to.

Shaking himself back into the present, the scowl returned to his face. It had been a while since he had seen that woman, Eyia if his memory was correct. A few years due to his reclusive nature in going out into the public. His books and magic were more important than interacting with the citizens, although his tricks and ploys never failed to gain their attention, more in the bad light. His eyes were still locked onto her figure as she stopped near an herb stand to gaze at the jewel smith who frequented the markets often this time of year. Brilliant gem encrusted embellishments were enough to catch even the eyes of those who normally weren’t fond of such things.

However, they failed to catch Loki’s attention, rather, his mind was formulating a new trick, one that was harmless, but could easily vent his growing frustrations and his pent up emotions. There was a small cart of particularly pungent smelling herbs that would release such fumes if squashed. Curling his lips up into a wolfish grin, the trickster was pleased that he was surrounded by mainly books. His fingers continued their tracing over the spines of the books, knowing that to stay any longer staring at the same volume would raise suspicion with the book seller. Words too soft to hear were whispered underneath his breath, his free fingers twitching to the left in the direction he wanted the spell to hit her at.

Oh yes, he had ‘harmless’ tricks alright… What happened afterwards were just the fun bits he could claim were ‘not of his own doing’, if anyone bothered to trace them back to him. There was an unladylike yelp when the young woman turned to continue in her browsing, toppling straight into the small cart with no idea what had tripped her. Through the commotion afterwards, no one suspected the young god, who grabbed three new volumes to read, as well as two spell tomes from Alfheim and slipped away soon after purchasing them. There was a satisfied smile on his lips, like a cat who was rewarded more than their share of cream.

There were more tricks where that came from, ones far more harmful if her persistence sprouted up again. Emerald eyes darkened underneath the glamour. He was never fond of sharing the things he liked, ever since he was a little child. Of course Thor was not exactly an item to be hoarded away, he simply wanted to have the attention to himself, a selfish thing to admit. Something to look forward to in the days to come. Glancing around briefly, eyeing the bustling crowds, he noticed that even in this form, he barely got any reaction. There were of course a few young ladies who sent him a bashful gaze, but no one ever walked up to him no matter what glamour he had on.

A scent of mouthwatering sweets distracted him again from his brooding, his nose greedily leading him to the delicious sweet stand he frequented every other month when his stash depleted. Different varieties of sweets from various realms were laid out in a wondrous display. Honey-drizzled buns with berry filling had been imported from Vanaheim, a popular sweet that he treated himself to at times, and the ever rare Alfheim candied rocks. The latter was something he always found himself in the mood for, and always had gotten an order set aside for him under an alias. Having to slip by a few other customers, he approached the assistant who helped run the stall.

“Five of the buns, and I believe I had ordered some of the candied rocks?” The assistant glanced up from counting coins and did a double take, recognizing the customer. Quickly answering him, a bag of the sweets was laced in his basket, as well as the wrapped buns. Thanking him and dropping a few coins in his waiting hands, he set his sights on browsing their other wares, not satisfied with what he had bought so far. His appetite for sweet things could not be easily sated.

Conversations were rising around him, the words slipping in and out of both ears. It was incredibly easy to hear tales of a warrior’s heroic efforts when surrounded by many people. After many years of having been passed down and told during feasts, one would have thought that everyone would have gotten tired of it. His eyes nearly rolled in annoyance. It was Asgard, and these were like how bed time stories are to children.

 “… The fire giants had surrounded the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif, cutting them off from the prince. All had seemed lost as the giants rushed in to finish them off when a haze of impenetrable smoke blocked the warriors from view. Out of it came Thor who struck them down where they stood, one by one, Mjolnir in hand.”

The tale of the fire giants a few months ago was not news to Loki, who tuned the story out. The smoke obviously had been his doing, but whoever remembered to mention that? Such details were always left out. Now, the tarts that were a common snack here in the city were calling to him, a soft pastry that was topped with only a small douse of sugar. He could smell the citrus filling beneath the sugar; perhaps taking one of two wouldn’t do any harm. If anything perhaps his oafish brother would enjoy a treat. He frowned right then and there.

Why did he want to give something like this to his brother? And more than that, why did everything he think about lead back to him?

A memory played in his head, of a time when Loki’s mischievous ways had been discovered by their mother. Thor and he had been close for years, but the children had snuck out of their room to single handedly taking the sweets that were reserved for dinner tomorrow. Nevertheless, Frigga had come across the two children in Loki’s room, stuffing their faces with the sweet tarts. Lips curled up to hint at a melancholic smile. It was a fond memory, Thor thinking he was in so much trouble that their father would deal the punishment. Even to this day, the Thunderer had denied that he had cried that night. Perhaps he was being too hard on him, regardless of the fact that his brother barely paid any attention to him now… But this could offer a chance for the two to sit down and idly chat if anything, maybe even show him a few new tricks.

“Couldn’t Thor and the warriors just take them out alone? Why did his brother need to be there? Producing smoke’s not the way of a warrior.”

Reaching for a handful of the tempting Asgardian sweets, the disguised prince paused, his attention easily captured. It was the words that were said in such an innocent tone that held no malice that struck him like a dagger to the heart. He was used to the other Asgardians not caring for his own adventures, nor ones that he was included in. When mentioned at all, he was a simple afterthought due to the fact he never boasted how ‘the giant was twice as tall as a normal one and that it could knock down four men with just a bellow of its mighty lungs’.  Honestly, did any warrior _not_ over exaggerate?

“Shhh! Not so loud. I heard that he was sent to make sure they could escape.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young boy and what looked to be his older brother who were hanging around the weapon stall nearby. Realization dawned on him that the smaller one had been the one to question why he had even been involved. His heart fluttered uncertainly in his chest. Why were these words, ones he had heard so many times, affecting him now? The walls he had built to deflect such slander had crumbled within seconds. If he continued to allow himself to be ridiculed… He froze again.

“That’s silly, nothing can beat Thor. Didn’t you say that the younger prince was just all tricks? Seidr’s women magic.” The words turned his blood to ice, slowly turning his head to keep the children in his gaze, still unnoticed. He could feel his muscles tightening, his heart pounding. All tricks? Is that what people believed? After all this time, he had thought that his use of magic had granted him a favorable eye in the public, even with his various acts of harmless – okay, mostly harmless -  mischief. Sure, he wasn’t as efficient at battle when it came to sheer force, preferring strategic ways to confuse and disable their enemies, and if he had continued participating in the debates and the court, his silvertongue would have been put to much better use. But this child spoke as if questioning his usefulness. His magic could easily outrival many of the nine realms most powerful sorcerers, and yet they think of it as only useful for simply petty _tricks_?

Loki’s teeth grated against each other painfully. Normally if a guard had heard such filthy words, they could have been dealt with swiftly. Speaking ill of the royals was considered treason, yet these words seemed to only be heard around him when no guard or royal was present. Seidr indeed was considered woman magic, weak and not as useful as a warrior. If they only knew the extent of his true magic, or how powerful his mother was at ‘a useless magic’. Blood boiling, he grabbed a few of the tarts and left the sum of gold coins on the counter before he swiftly turned and left, blocking out the words of the children.

If he had dared to linger any longer and listen, his pride to protect his image would have prevailed over his rationality… The use of his magic to punish the children would have been next as well. Pushing past the market-goers was proving difficult, using his magic to help him in his endeavor of pushing people out of his way. None of them could react, seeing a rather stern look in his glamoured eyes that dared them to let a word leave their tongues. The rage and hurt swelled within Loki, burning through his veins like acid. Forgoing his original site of arrival, he swept into a nearby alleyway and without looking to see if anyone was there, transported himself back to the palace gates.

Returning to the palace so early and suddenly had not gone unnoticed, Heimdall’s gaze heavy on his back. Muninn and Huginn spotted him from their perch on the tree nearby, breaking his hazed mind by cawing and swooping down to circle around him. In another circumstance, he would have held up an arm to tempt one of them to land. Smart birds, but their love for creating a bit of mischief was something that the God of Mischief could enjoy.

Irritated by the way their mocking eyes followed his every move, he swiped one hand in front of him, creating a blast of seidr-empowered air to knock them away from him, ignoring their continuous caws that sounded too much like laughter. He was in no mood to indulge the birds in their strange games, even though his actions may as well be whispered by them into the ears of their master. His lips twisted into a snarl. Let them tattle on him to his father, as if his fits of rage ever were the concern of anyone’s.

The trickster barely remembered he was still in his glamour when he was stopped by the guards, suspicion in their eyes at an unfamiliar and fuming Asgardian. Narrowing his eyes and curling his lip into a snarl, he tore the glamour off, sweeping past them as soon as they realized it was him. The two men kept their lips shut afterwards, seeing the dangerous glimmer in those sharp eyes. They had seen and heard of the elder prince’s temper, but they had learned well to be on the lookout for the less seen but still known anger of the trickster, especially with the power of seidr on his side.

Once indoors, the aggravated young god cut right to avoid the more well-traveled halls. It wouldn’t be wise to run into anyone in this condition, especially if he ended up meeting his mother. As much as he loved her attention when in other situations, he would never forgive himself if he snapped at her. Loki’s eyes darted in each direction when he entered a new hallway, alert for even the slightest whisper of a footsteps. Nearing the wing where his room was located in, he heard the thundering steps of someone who was trying to catch up to his fast paced walk.

“Brother!”

By the Norns…

Loki’s right eye twitched, annoyance slipping into his features as he resisted looking back. It was seconds before his brother, smelling of sweat and dressed in much plainer training clothes, came to his side. He could feel the radiance of his smile beaming down upon him, trying to crack through the jagged barriers of his anger. Wrinkling his nose at the scent, nimble fingers twitched again when a hand pulled on his shoulder to silently as him to slow down. Whether it was due to his feet protesting at having been walking all morning, or that he actually was complying with his brother’s unspoken wishes, he dropped into a slower pace.

In a sort of greeting, anger still present in his being, Loki sent a withering look to his brother, wanting him to leave him alone. Unfazed, the elder brother peered down, now only noticing the basket that both hands of the mischief maker now clung to tightly. There was a scent of sweets that wafted from underneath the books. Thinking back, he remembered why his brother originally didn’t come to spar with them – the market. His eyes lighting up, he wondered what he had found today. He couldn’t disagree with the fact that while he only had the sights for weapons, his brother could sniff out some of the most unique and interesting items in the massive market.

“What’s in the basket, brother? I smell something sweet.” The God of Thunder looked genuinely interested, such a rarity nowadays when he only set off to train with his warrior friends. It was almost a shame how the mischief god reacted next.

“Nothing.” Loki snapped, pushing past his oafish brother and heading down the next hall to his room. The blond frowned at the outburst. He knew his brother too well, and the way he bristled at his tone was not normal. This wasn’t the Loki who was angry at him for breaking his favorite dagger when they were sparring earlier this year – he still had never been forgiven about that - or an annoyed brother who hated the fact that he had been beaten… Something had set off the trickster god and crawled under his skin, which wasn’t an easy feat.

The Liesmith could feel his brother’s presence still behind him, unmoving after he had snapped at him. He felt as if he should apologize for his sharp tone, but on the other hand, he was one of the causes of his anger, even if it was indirectly. Finding his fingers twitching, the nervous tic of his childhood, and fiddling with the hem of his tunic, he hissed, turning the corner and ignoring how his sudden appearance startled a handmaiden. Her high pitched squeak echoed through the hallway, wide eyes following him before she darted away.

Opening the door to his room, the god’s emotions were beginning to simmer down, allowing him to think more clearly. How was it that his emotions had gotten the best of him? There was no doubt that his brother would seek council with his mother and let her know of his mood. Curling up his lips in an annoyed sneer, he placed the basket on the nearby desk. Such delectable smells couldn’t do to lift his spirits at the moment, narrowing his eyes as he whispered a spell to block the scent.

Slumping onto his bed, he felt the mattress sink underneath him, blankets and furs rolling towards him in a warm embrace. He gathered one and draped it around him, loving the softness of the fabric against his skin. The tips of his fingertips traveled through the short fur, remembered how he come to own this favored skin. A direwolf that had yet to shed its heavier fur had wandered too close to one of Asgard’s more remote villages. They frequented the forests that spanned the region, hiding and picking off travelers when they ventured too far. Loki had been quick to act when sent out there, the enormous wolf proving stronger than others. It was one of the few times he had been showered in gratitude, or seen the happiness radiating through the air because of one of his deeds.

Putting his hands together, Loki’s eyes closed, lips moving silently to complete a simple spell that he remembered his mother teaching him one cold afternoon. There was a flash of green light from beneath his closed eyelids and a soft chirp echoed throughout the large room. A warmth grew in his cupped hands, the whisper of magic in the air. Allowing, for once, for a smile to creep on his lips, the tight look on his face finally shed.

Green eyes fluttered open to stare at the bird he had created. Such a simple thing, a see-through magic-powered creature, one of the easiest spells, yet in some cases, the more details it was spoken, the more complicated it could become. The glow of it was soft and gentle, soothing just like how his mother had taught him before. Releasing it into the air, the magic-infused avian fluttered around his head, chirping musically before it landed on the headboard of the bed, pecking absently at the ends of a pillow. Eyes closing, the trickster let the emotions run through his mind. Hurt, anger, jealousy, spite. Everything always backtracked to that one problem that has haunted his mind.

_I will never be Thor… But even if I develop my talent, everything will still be eclipsed by his golden glory._

Laying down, the liesmith let the gentle music of the bird lull him into a half daze, feeling the sunlight’s warmth as it sought to peer through the curtains. For a few minutes, it was bliss, nothing to interrupt him, to make him feel as if he was nothing, invisible the others’ eyes. A knock on his door made its way through the air, spoiling the mood and bringing him back into reality. Letting out an annoyed grunt, the god was tempted to pull the soft fur even more over his shoulders, wanting to ignore whoever it was. Perhaps if he pretended that he was sleeping, then he could gain a few more hours of silence. Yes, that sounded excellent. He promptly fell back against the nest of fabrics on his bed and buried his head in the pillows. Hearing a fluttering of wings, he noticed that the avian had hopped down onto the pillow next to him, tilting its head as if to study its maker. Innocently, happily...

Adoringly.

An overwhelming emotion inside of him rose up and before he could realize what he was doing, he had slammed his hand into the seidr’s bird form, sending strands of it into the air before it dissolved. Quiet, he furrowed his eyebrows, seeing his quivering fingers gripping the pillow case tightly before he opened his hand again, green sparks drifting skywards. That emotion… That feeling of power over such a weak thing, crushing it into bits. It was so startling to experience.

_How easy it would be to just try and get Thor out of the picture…_

The thought unnerved him, eyes narrowing as he quickly sat up. Even with his jealousy, he never could have bare to think of getting rid of his older brother. The rivalry was there, yes, but he loved his brother. He rose his hands up, his bare skin shadowed in the dimly lit room. The slight tremble of his arms were still there, ever so slightly being seen. Muscles contracted, fingers closing into a tight fist before releasing again. His heart began to slow down, calmly settling into a normal heartbeat.

The knock came again, louder this time.

“Enter!” Loki called out, more than annoyed with whoever was outside, probably a mere servant. There were still many hours left until dinner, so a summons into the feast room was not to be expected, nor would he think his brother brave enough to risk another lashing with his bitter words. The brute probably had gone back to sparring. During his musings, he barely noticed a young man enter, frightened eyes darting around the darkened room before landing on the prince.

“Your father requests your presence in the throne room.” The young man was obviously nervous about being close to the still irritated prince, no doubt having heard about how he spooked handmaiden. Those brown eyes were darting from the prince back to the door, wanting to be relieved after delivering the message. The darkening of the expression of the prince had not been a welcome sign of the message he brought.

“What does he want now?” His expression then dropped into a more bored one, bringing his knees to his chest and resting one arm on them. If it was about Heimdall reporting his little acts of mischief in the marketplace, he would rather not have to discuss it as ‘not price-like behavior’. That witch of a woman deserved what came to her, and more. Other summons during feasts he could do well to ignore, but if this was important...

“Did he mention why?” It was an afterthought he asked the servant who was waiting to be dismissed.

“N-no sir. He only specified that you and your brother meet him immediately.”

His brother… Pursing his lips, he made a gesture for the boy to leave, which he hastily accepted. So both brother were to have audience with their father… But what for? Brushing a hand through his hair to tame any loose strands, Loki stood up, glancing around his room. Delaying would only make things worse, and he had overindulged in how many times he could ignore appearing. A light scolding from mother after last time pushed him towards the still-open door, reluctance heavy in his steps.

Upon exiting the room, the prince found his shoulders being surrounded by a large arm, nearly making his knees collapse. Trying not to look annoyed and failing, he realized that his brother had been standing outside his door the whole time, or at least that was what he had figured. An eyebrow raised, the silent question being noticed by Thor, who was quick to answer it, lips parting as the booming voice he was known for passed through. He didn’t care for the answer however, shouldering his arm away and setting off to the throne room.

The quicker this was over with, the more time he could have to himself.


End file.
